


Because, Sapling

by anisland



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, Barbara Gordon is a Lesbian, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Canon powers, F/F, Femslash, Lesbian Character, Non-Canon Lesbian Character, Non-Canon Powers, One Shot, Poison Ivy's Pheromones, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisland/pseuds/anisland
Summary: Barbara Gordon is young, ambitious, and still a little new to being Batgirl. A chance meeting with Poison Ivy, the strongest and most intimidating villain she's encountered alone, has Barbara second-guessing more than just her own abilities.(Hint: the thing she's second-guessing is her sexuality.)One shot for now, but might write more if I feel so inclined.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Pamela Isley, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Because, Sapling

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've been around! I don't own DC Comics or these characters. Please excuse errors I missed in editing :)

All evidence suggests that Poison Ivy’s pheromones only work on men, but Barbara Gordon isn’t so sure. The villain doesn’t stand much taller than Barbara, but somehow she still towers before her, barefoot and in this leafy one-piece—a bustier of sorts—with green floral patterns snaking up and down her arms. Barbara, conversely, is covered entirely in her loose fitting purple suit, her yellow boots, her yellow utility belt, her cowl, the symbol of the bat in yellow over her chest. Face-to-face with Poison Ivy for the first time since committing to a schedule of Gotham University by day, vigilante by night, Barbara can’t help but think that, true to her name, as Batgirl she looks like a child while Poison Ivy is undoubtably a woman.

But really, that’s a silly comparison to make. She is, in fact, a woman. She’s twenty-one years old, and so bright when it comes to cracking computer code that if she wanted to, she could drop out of school and make a good living for herself, get an apartment, maybe a boyfriend. Boys like her, even if she doesn’t always let herself see it. Boys like Dick Grayson, maybe. And her costume isn’t childish. It’s practical, whereas Ivy’s is the opposite. What if she steps on something while fighting? What if the leaves that cover her rip and tear? She has no armor, no way to defend against actual physical attacks.

But then, Barbara thinks, maybe that’s the point. It’s part of her intimidation, to show her opponents that she doesn’t need to defend against attacks, since the likelihood of anyone landing a blow is slim to none in the first place.

Poison Ivy isn’t just beautiful. She’s strong and she’s dangerous. She can beckon a blade of grass to grow to hundreds of times its size in only seconds. She can command a carnivorous plant to devour a person whole. Her entire body secretes poison. She’s as brilliant a botanist and biochemist as she is terrifying an adversary, with an arsenal of sleep and paralysis toxins derived from her precious plants. And then she has her pheromones, which she uses to lure and seduce unsuspecting victims. And then she has her kiss.

Barbara is sure the pheromones work on women too, because she is overcome with a sudden longing for that kiss.

Here they meet, on a rooftop in Gotham. Barbara did not set out to pursue Ivy that evening; rather she donned the cape and cowl and spent the night grappling from building to building out of simple boredom, hoping maybe to come across a mugging to prevent or a small business to save from robbery. It had been slow going so far—she made sure a drunk girl got back to her apartment safely and then plucked a cat from up a tree. Slow going until now.

“Well, well, well.” Ivy draws the words out, playing with her language the way Barbara fears she intends to play with her. She grins like a bobcat. “Looks like I found a lost little bat.”

She thrusts out her arms and holds her palms forward—Barbara notices the vines that wind from each of Ivy’s wrists to her elbows too late; they split and multiply as they rocket towards her, bearing their tendrils like ten-foot claws. They don’t attack or swipe, but instead halt in mid-air half a foot away from her, suddenly and with great control. She hopes Ivy didn’t see her flinch. “And I found a weed,” Barbara manages, her voice only shaking a little.

Never allowing her vines to retract, Ivy saunters purposefully her way. Barbara knows it’s all constructed, this whole routine she does when she has men in her thrall: the single raised eyebrow, the smile, the swinging hips. It’s all very Jessica Rabbit or Marilyn Monroe. Idealized femininity. The male gaze. An intentional performance by a master seductress. Barbara sees right through it, and she tells herself she won’t fall for the act. But then Ivy moves her shoulders _just_ _so_ and arches her back in precisely _that way;_ she suddenly leads with her chest, and Barbara can’t help but picture herself sliding what little clothing Ivy wears down her body, nestling herself up against her torso, and resting her head—

No. Barbara brings herself back to reality. She can’t allow herself to think about taking one of Ivy’s breasts in her hand and bowing her head to her—

No. She stops herself again. But Ivy’s too bewitching. Her face is an inch and a half away from Barbara’s now. She should be in fight or flight mode, probably flight, but instead her feet ground down into the rooftop; she can sense how readily her body wants to move, but her mind won’t allow it.

She wants to serve Poison Ivy. She wants to worship her. She needs to. A need that it seems has lived within Barbara her whole life, some sort of dormant instinct humanity lost long ago, after they domesticated plants and began growing crops, after they largely ceased to hunt and gather, after they forgot their reverence for The Green.

The Green. Barbara shakes her head. This must be Ivy’s pheromones because that’s Ivy’s language.

“I can feel you fighting me, little sprout,” Ivy coos. “Just give in.” She cups Barbara’s cheek in her hand. Their bodies are so close. Barbara inhales deep, and her nose is greeted with roses, with lavender, with gardenias, with jasmine.

She knows she needs to escape or die, but she wants nothing more than to stay and breathe Ivy in.

“Now now, Bat,” Ivy continues. “If you cooperate with me, you get to live. I have no reason to kill a girl. Even one in a cowl.” She scoffs.

Barbara considers her options. Does she trust Poison Ivy not to kill her? No. Does she think she’s capable of fighting off the pheromones? No. A psychological attack would be one thing, but this is biology, the art of one body responding to another. She’s powerless. She doesn’t have a choice.

She gives in.

An odd combination of bliss and energy washes over Ivy’s face, like she did a bump of cocaine and it’s hitting her. She feels it. She feels Barbara’s submission.

“Good girl.” Ivy runs her thumb along Barbara’s temple. It's a ravishing sensation. “You’re going to tell me how Batman learned about my exploits this evening, why he sent you as a diversion, and where he’s waiting for me.”

As Barbara obeys, a calm euphoria bubbles inside of her. Love. She’s in love. “Batman doesn’t know,” she says. Her tone is light and airy. “I was out by myself tonight. I needed something to do.”

Ivy uses her thumb to lift Barbara’s chin so that their eyes lock. She studies her. She frowns. “Hmm. I believe you.”

Now, Barbara frowns. “Why would I lie?”

Ivy laughs. “Because, sapling. My pheromones only work on men. I was wondering how long it would take for you to figure it out.”

Embarrassment overtakes Barbara like a shroud. She feels her cheeks flush and Ivy laughs even harder.

No, Barbara reminds herself. Poison Ivy’s a villain. She’s insane. She lies. This is a lie. Her pheromones must also work on women. As she searches her mind, she feels suddenly clearheaded and in control. But when she meets Ivy’s gaze again, she also feels her pulse race and a growing sting deep in her pelvis. She can’t separate fact from fiction.

Barbara doesn’t know she’s doing it until she’s doing it. Her head lurches forward, lips leading. Two big thumps sound one after the other as Ivy leaps backwards and her vines slam themselves against the rooftop before springing back around her arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” She hisses. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Oh, Barbara remembers. Her poison. “Batman said you gave Harley Quinn a shot. To make her immune.” She surprises herself with her boldness.

“You couldn’t handle me, shot or not.” Ivy shakes her head and smiles. She looks at her feet for a split second. Barely a split second. A crack in her facade.

“You wanna bet, Ivy?”

Ivy regains her composure faster than Barbara can register it. “You’re right. I gave Harley a shot. I’m also going home to her tonight. She’s the only one who deserves the shot.”

Right on cue, a flash of red and black backflips onto the roof. Harley Quinn sticks the landing, even with a baseball bat slung over her shoulder. “Hey, Red,” she says. Her words are playful, like committing crimes with her girlfriend is just all one big game to her. Like she doesn’t understand that anything’s real. “I was getting worried.”

Ivy shrugs in Barbara’s direction. “Just a roadblock, daffodil. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Harley grins when she sees Barbara. “Hi, Bratgirl. Long time no see! Getting yer derrière kicked by dandelioness here?”

Ivy slides up to Harley and pulls her into a kiss. Harley melts into it as one of Ivy’s hands grabs her behind the head, the other reaching down to her ass. Harley lets out a little fluttering hum of pleasure. When they finally part, Ivy sneaks a smirk and in Barbara’s direction. That was all a show. For her. For the game.

Harley’s cheeks are flush and she grins from ear to ear. “Aw, Red. Do we have to do the heist? I’m all revved up now.”

Ivy thinks for a moment. “I supposed this isn’t a time sensitive issue. We can do the heist another day.”

Harley grabs Ivy by the hand and yanks her towards the edge of the rooftop. But Ivy pauses and turns back to Barbara. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweet pea. You’re not the only co-ed who’s ever wanted to worship Mother Gaia.”

Harley laughs so hard that she drops Ivy’s hand and doubles over, clutching her ribcage. “Mother Gaia! That’s a good one! Ya know, I bet she’s cute! Once ya rip the mask off and everything." Ivy laughs too, but she never loses her control.

She peers over the side of the building and beckons to something on the ground below. Tree branches appear beside them, and she and Harley hop on. The limbs begin to lower them down and Ivy waves mockingly in Barbara’s direction.

Barbara Gordon is left standing there, wondering what happened. Whatever it was, she simultaneously resolves not to tell Batman and decides that maybe Dick Grayson isn’t so cute after all.


End file.
